


Virtual Notebook for all my Plot Bunny Needs

by Panda-Chan (Kage_no_Akuma_Shadow_Demon)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: AH - Freeform, Be Honest, But mostly to kind of comment on how its still dangerous for biological men?, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, Harry has Family Magic, I'll specify later, I'm undecided between that and just traditional, If this isn't your cup of tea, Just so you know what you're walking into, Lil babu Danger Noodle, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Metamorphmagus Harry Potter, MoD!Harry, Mpreg, Multi, My Self Control is Non-Existent, Not for really any reason other than he Can, Now I'm just imagining Harry in the Naruto World and He hatches a Basilisk, Other, Potter Magic involved crazy fertility, Self-Indulgent, Semi-Serious Crack?, That's totes fine, There is mentions of Mpreg, There is mentions of how Potters were kidnapped to be used as broodmares?, Wouldn't you want a Basilisk if you were a Parselmouth?, also, intersex harry potter, oh!, probably, you do you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 16:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kage_no_Akuma_Shadow_Demon/pseuds/Panda-Chan
Summary: Each chapter is a WIP involving either Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, or a MOD!Harry Potter crossover with some Reincarnation for seasoning.





	1. Harry Potter & Naruto Crossover - Currently Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> MOD!Harry Potter is born as Haruno Ren.  
> AU for both Harry Potter and Naruto, but mostly Naruto.  
> At least, Harry’s background is Au, but that isn’t new, right? Honestly, a lot of us enjoy messing with the aftermath of the war and Harry’s reaction to it. Some of us like for him to just leave, some of us like to extend it, some of us like to make him younger when it ends, some of us like to kill all his friends and family. It happens to the best of us. Case in point, the fact Harry is master of death and knows about the Naruto world. Because why not? In case you haven’t realized, this story is going to be rather self-indulgent.  
> Cause, Haruno Ren replaces Sakura, sorry. I’ll probably actually write a story with him as either a sibling or a cousin.  
> Turns out end notes keep getting sent to the next newest chapter? Which, is odd. Sorry in advance for the text.
> 
> Edit; 4/14/2019  
> Just so you know, I’m very curious to see what kind of differences I could make, you know? Like, I know that this story can seem off-putting, like MOD!Harry, Metamorphmagus!Harry, Intersexed!Harry. Honestly, Harry is gender fluid/non-binary, if he isn’t born female (and I mean that by sex, not gender) then he usually refers to himself with He/Him pronouns. Also, Ren is a gender-neutral name and I find it so cute, cause it means Water Lily, Lotus, or Love.  
> I honestly think that this story might be close to ‘canon’ as in, most of the bad guys are the same the main difference is just that instead of Haruno Sakura, there’s Haruno Ren in this universe.
> 
> Also, I don’t know if you guys would be interested but I had this idea for an SI-OC Haruno and their parents. (Both parents are transgendered, Si-Oc was originally a girl, but is now a boy and realizes that they don’t really mind it?)  
> The gist of it was that instead of Mebuki and Kizashi, the Haruno’s were OCs, Haruno Yoichi was born a Haruno and Haruno Miyu is his wife. Yoichi has a twin sister who is an Orian (sex worker) and a cousin who is a Geisha.
> 
> They were originally civilian but now I can’t help thinking of them being infiltrators/spies.
> 
> Yoichi and Miyu were the only names I assigned them so I’m pretty sure I never selected their dead names, also Yoichi and Miyu had an Uchiha teammate and an Uchiha Jounin-Sensei.
> 
> Yoichi is a medic/ninjutsu-nin while Miyu is more of a taijutsu/genjutsu/bukijutsu-nin, though she wants to be a medic as well and manages through sheer force of will.
> 
> My Si-Oc was named Haruno Sakumo, because of the sheer hilarity that would result when Kakashi finds out about him.
> 
> My ages for Yoichi and Miyu aren’t set in stone yet, but I know they fought in the third shinobi war and I want to say either Hatake Sakumo managed to save them from death or they named SI after him because they never believed that bullshit about him being at fault for the war.
> 
> This was created before I even became aware of who Sakura’s parents were and I still rather like it, but now I’m thinking, what if _Harry_ had been the one born in Si’s place? Cause the prologue makes a suggestion that the world he knew was different and I adore peoples headcanons about how Uchiha’s react to people? Cause its really cute how in some stories they make claims on shinobi/kunoichi with potential and I adored the idea of adding that to my fic originally? Also, Sanjuno is an _amazing_ author, I adore their Naruto Fix-Its so honestly if I ever wanted to go all out I would totally dump a reincarnated Harry Potter in the middle of that madness just for the hilarity that is his reaction to the fact his ‘Naruto knowledge’ is meaningless and the resulting brawl that would result from the Uchiha noticing his _potential_.
> 
> Because what’s funnier than a Si-oc or character in the know reacting to a Naruto verse that is _nothing like canon Naruto_?
> 
> Also, I really liked the idea of making the Haruno’s a clan either from the land of Iron or the land of Whirlpool? Cause of the pink hair my dudes, and I kind of wanted Yoichi and his relatives to be like the last offshoots of Haruno-Uzumaki’s?
> 
> And before you’re like; _But wait, Panda-Chan, isn’t that OP?_  
>  My dudes, I will 100% admit that my story ideas are vastly _self-indulgent_ , life is short my guys and, honestly? I think it’s _okay_ to want to write some self-indulgent fanfic.  
> But, you guys, if this stuff is too weird or just not your cup of tea, I _completely_ understand and I hope you guys find the fics that check off your list.

Prologue

Harry knows this world, not because he had _lived_ on this planet, but because even he watches television and reads in his spare time. Living for as long as he had, you find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. Some worlds lack certain types of media just as others have it in abundance. He knows that the world he lives in might be different from the world he read about. It’s not the first time things don’t line up perfectly.

In other lives, Harry had managed to get his hands upon the books and movies based around his life and found numerous inconsistencies, some versions come closer to the truth than others. Perhaps in other worlds, they are the truth for those versions of him, in all honesty, it makes it easier to read. The knowledge that the books aren’t a morbid echo of his life and the consequences that resulted from them. After all, they didn’t detail just how far the Dursleys abuse had gone, didn’t mention just how much of a puppet he turned out to be, Dumbledore’s little martyr, created just the way he liked. A lot more people adored Snape and hated his father, which was awkward. He might have forgiven Snape but that didn’t mean he had forgotten what he had done.

It brushed off the consequences of collecting the three Hallows, the ending had caused a disconnect – him married to Ginny, three kids with _very_ unfortunate names, and the ‘Golden Trio’ in some stage of middle-aged contentment in their lives while skipping the aftermath of Britain’s Wixen War. Not to say he had anything against Ginny, it was just the fact that Ginny outgrew her crush on him and they never had anything more than a sibling-like bond during his life, or the fact Hermione, Ron and himself had drifted apart as they moved on.

The aftermath of war had been a time of revelations and healing, Harry had been in dire need of healing. He had gotten the ministry to pay him restitution for his actions during the war – it had gone to the Goblins, so they could repair their damages and they had been reluctantly impressed. They had already begrudgingly respected him for getting past their revered security and for his merciless claiming of the estates of Voldemort’s followers as spoils of war. After all, that mark they had so revered was a _thrall brand_. What belonged to them belonged to Voldemort and as the one who killed him, Harry had been the one to claim it by rite of conquest.

Harry was aware that his actions gathered no favors, especially since the ministry sought to claim the estates of the dark families that had been wiped out only to be told that they were already claimed in their entirety. The one who claimed them was unknown and the ministry had seethed while Harry was seen to by a Goblin healer.

Said Healer had snarled in the language of their kind whose name was unpronounceable by human vocal cords, her voice had been rough though comprehendible as she detailed what had been wrong with him and what they managed to heal. Honestly, by the end of it, Harry rather uncharitably thought that what _wasn’t_ wrong with him might have made a shorter list.

There had been an untold number of wards, geasa, spells, glamour’s, potions and blocks that needed to be flushed from his system, admittedly, they were surprised he was still alive since he was stuffed to the gills and spelled within an inch of his life. Honestly, the fact he could make decisions for himself was a miracle and a testament to his strength. Harry hadn’t felt strong when he was given that knowledge, had been forced to acknowledge that Dumbledore had truly seen him as nothing more than a chest piece in need of maneuvering into just the right situations to ensure his spell work was performing perfectly. He had forgiven Dumbledore then as well, though he knew that he would never forget or trust in the elder man again.

The results of his healing had been rather surprising nonetheless as his current amount of physical activity and muscle mass had been applied to his newly improved healthy body. The first thing he had originally noticed was that he could see but the first time he saw himself in a mirror had been rather bewildering.

Unknown at the time, Sirius had adopted him shortly after he was born so Harry would be his undisputed heir. Which resulted in Harry becoming a metamorphmagus seeing as Lily being a first gen had meant that her blood acted as a purifier and allowed Harry to inherit the Family gifts, much like Andy marrying her Ted had resulted in their daughter being a metamorphmagus.

Harry’s looks echoed that fact, once the wards, geasa, spells, glamour’s, and blocks were removed, well, he could hardly recognize himself. There was still his father in the curve of his brow, his mother in the shape of his eyes and the color, a mix of them both making his nose but, the lines of his jaw and cheek, the plush of his lips, the thick black lashes and even thicker hair, that was all Black even if his skin tone was a lighter tone of bronze than James’s had been. It quietly broke his heart to see those Black characteristics, to remember Sirius. He couldn’t regret it though and so he moved on, returning to Andy and Teddy after reinstating them both into the Black Family and making Teddy Heir Black. He ensured Teddy wouldn’t be taken advantage of like he had been.

The Wizarding World acted as though Harry James Potter was something they owned, and that Harry should have been thankful for the privilege – which was why Harry had first stayed close to Teddy and Andy before traveling once Teddy began to move on with his life. If they found out about Harry’s abilities, they would have demanded he does his duty and birth a bunch of baby Potter’s to carry on his name and be married off.

Turns out the Potter Family had once been fertile as _fuck_ with some _additions_ to the men of their line. One out of five male Potters would be born intersexed, appearance more androgynous so they could pass as women amongst the mundane since their bodies would be affected. Feminine pelvises along with the birthing canal and womb found in those born with the ability to become impregnated. In the times of before, Potter’s had been highly sought out for their fertile women and the men who had the ability to carry young. While magic could allow two men to have a child together, it was unfortunately just as common for the said man to end up with their pregnancy declared as high risk and in need of constant bed rest and monitoring. Men were not biologically capable of both carrying and birthing a child without risk of death or miscarriage. Which would then result in an infection since the only way to remove the child would be surgical. The only other choice had been human transfiguration, which would temporarily change the man’s sex, so they _could_ birth the child with less risk, but most men suffered from gender dysphoria and depression. When the child was born postpartum depression was also common and so most men hesitated to take such risks.

Potter’s born with the family gift, however, were usually some form of gender fluid, gender-neutral, or non-binary, and thus were not bothered by the fact that they could carry or sire children if that was what they desired. Some Potters – just like all people – declined to have children.

Unfortunately, people’s depravity became known as Potter’s became just as known as perfect broodmares, forced to birth child after child _after child_. It had been kept secret, but intersexed Potter’s had a special bond with their children and having those bonds constantly broken when their children were taken away broke them in turn. Their body and magic turned against them until they quietly slipped away into Death’s embrace.

He couldn’t remain in Britain after everything that happened, especially with his newly realized abilities which helped him remain under the radar as he used his metamorphism to make himself look like the runty Potter people remembered. Once he left he happily ignored the MoM’s demand to return, likely their attempts to shackle him and force him to _do his duty_. As though they had not stolen enough from him and after some time they gave up, enough years have passed that they finally got it through their thick skulls that he wasn’t going to return just because they wanted him to.

However, it was on his travels that Harry realized a very important thing when he reverted to his original looks. Instead of seeing the age he had expected – that he had subconsciously been adding to his metamorphized looks – instead he looked just as young as his early twenties. It was a surprise and he hesitantly wondered if his age was going slower because of the fact he was an archmagi.

There was a difference in power levels that a wix is born with, such as a blocked core wix aka squib or a third tier wix being a Master Witch or Wizard. Mage’s were known as the most powerful amongst their brethren and when Harry had gone to a custom wand shop following the day his phoenix and holly wand no longer _fit_ as well as it used to, he had been slightly surprised by the vast changes. His power levels were in the highest tier and had been Emerald, ironic but meaning that he had the potential to become an archmage. Thankfully, the wandmaker hadn’t asked and instead requested that he find resonance amongst the wand woods and then the core or cores for his wand.

The resulting wand was beautiful, eleven and a half inches, with a moderate balance between stiff and flexible. The handle and base were beech with an inlay of white willow in an interlocked latticed knotwork design along the body of the wand. A natural polish used, the wand had a core of braided basilisk heartstring, thestral tail hair, and demiguise fur. It also didn’t hinder his abilities towards using non-verbal or even wandless magic since wands like Ollivander’s were very much a crutch. He had the wand bound to him with his blood, so no one could ever take it away like he took Draco’s wand all those years ago. It had been remarkable to feel the difference between his new wand and his original one and led to him realizing that perhaps his holly wand was never really his in the first place. After all, Voldemort’s Horcrux had left its mark upon him, perhaps the wand had matched him because of it.

So, with that in mind, Harry assumed that his age had simply slowed as was common amongst wixen who had high power levels, though of course, Harry is never that lucky. The hallows were more than myth it turned out and Death was unamused over being ignored, not that Harry had intended to do that in the first place. It took time for Harry to accept the fact he was semi-immortal, and Death became _clingy_ , remaining ever-present at the back of Harry’s mind. Though there were times where he left to oversee his duty and ensure people were dying like they were supposed to. Death always hated those who tried to cheat him, though Harry seemed to be the only exception.

So, Harry lived his life, traveled, learned and took advantage of his previously blocked abilities and reveled in the fact no one could recognize him. Then, Death offered more adventure, offered him the ability to cross dimensions, to be reborn with the belongings he carried around with him since he didn’t trust the ministry not to attempt to lay claim to his inheritance.

Death had laughed and _laughed_ , fondly calling him a magpie and musing that those long-buried Ravenclaw tendencies were finally shining through. They had, Harry read books and grimoires without having to fear being bitten since he was their new Lord and he soaked up theory, runes, history, etc. He found a new love for potions, found out the extent of his metamorphmagus abilities – Tonks act of taking on animal characteristics had been amazing but it seemed Tonks had been in the third tier when it came to magical power and thus lacked the ability to change her shape entirely. With Death’s voice in his ear, he found a tribe of metamorphmaguses and while they were hesitant, in time he managed to gain their trust and then their fondness.

They taught him how to turn into an animal and back, had taught him about how to turn into magical creatures – though few could manage that much. To fly with a phoenix’s wings had been _exhilarating_.

Soon, however, Harry had done what he could in his world and he took Death up on his offer. Though, being reborn hadn’t been what he had expected. Some lives started over from the beginning, others started when his vessels' original soul died, and he ended up being slipped inside by Death. Sometimes they were adults and most of the time they were children. Harry had grown to acknowledge his rather gray toned morality. Dumbledore might have manipulated him into being a hero and a martyr, but Harry was above all else a survivor and survivors were rarely ever naïve or trusting as Dumbledore forced him to be.

He grew used to it, grew to enjoy the freedom he gained when he was reborn into the different universes. Death ever-present with him and the Lord of Riches seemed to enjoy his endless curiosity and excitement. His magic followed him in most of his lives, especially the Potter fertility and Black Metamorphism. Though the Potter Gift was more obvious in the lives he was born male, Death fondly amused at the back of his mind and ‘helpfully’ pointing out that it would be useful if he desired to use it since Harry’s tastes were distinctly _masculine_. Though, they made an agreement that the strictly mundane lives he lived would lack such biology since some of his parents were not so open-minded. Death agreed the first time he was abused and nearly died from neglect because he did not fit within the gender binary.

Living for as long as he had, he knows this world, but he knows he is not originally meant for it.

Though, it isn’t the first time he had been placed in a world that had originally been thought of as fiction.

_Really Death, **this** world?_

**You did say you were bored.**

Well… He had him there.


	2. Of Maelstroms and Kitsunes - Title may or may not be subject to change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOD!Harry is reborn as Naruto's twin.
> 
> I actually have a picture for how he's going to look, I just need to post it to my DeviantArt so I can link it here for you guys.
> 
> Also, I have an idea for how Harry's going to look as Haruno Ren but I'm torn on what eye color he should have, green like Mebuki and the original Sakura, blue like Kizashi, or maybe even give him heterochromia? So, if you don't know what that is, its a condition where you have different color irises. 
> 
> I'll post a pic of those four choices, what he looks like will be the same, just the eye colors will be different.

He does not usually linger, consciousness a tentative thing within a dark warm world where he does not breathe. He can sense sparks, can sense core’s that bring familiarity. The sense of fire; heat, warmth, of untamable flames, so many of them have that sense to them, flickering flames to bonfires. That taste of water – sometimes a trickle, other times as swift as a river, cool, refreshing but sometimes cautioning – like the treacherous river three brothers built a bridge over. That feeling of earth, steady and reliable, able to shield and shatter, the unpredictability of a landslide, the immovability of mountains. Wind with the gentleness of a breeze or the awe caused by tornadoes, the power of hurricanes – the exhilarated feeling of flying, of weightlessness. The electric taste of lightning, the static shock, the ozone – pins and needles, hair raising – beautiful but so dangerous.

Some cores grow familiar, they are large compared to his own little flicker, but they feel safe and protective. The maelstrom who is always the closest, that strange contradictory of flames, howling winds and the sharp tang of lightning, the slightly smaller more controlled core that hints at lightning – the moment before lightning strikes when your hair raises as though struck by antigravity, you laugh because you don’t know just how far in danger you are.

There are three other cores, but he cannot get as good a read on them.

It’s alright though because he realizes that he is not alone – maelstrom is there but this little flicker so like his own is not them. It is a star, his own little starling that grows with him and is already so bright and _warm_. The moments of coherency grow and there is a new addition to their surroundings. The red-orange power he cannot name is like a mist, slinking in with caution and curiosity as though it hadn’t yet realized they were there and came to investigate. It coils around them, him and his starling – his little starburst of sunshine – they are always pressed together but that does not mean he doesn’t press closer. The vibrant red-orange mist does not attack, does not seek to snuff them out, to stifle their sparks. Instead, it coils around them, its caution replaced by confidence, by interest and protective desire. It claims them, and maelstrom does not react, always there but her core only winks and shines because of things he cannot see and usually she twinkles at the other star with its contradiction – it is like a campfire on a cold night, like standing upon the edge of a cliff with the wind in your face, like the bright flash of lightning in pitch black skies. Sometimes she glows brighter, warm and happy while the other star seems bashful and fond but eager to please.

It is peaceful, him and his starling, with the maelstrom and that sunset mist surrounding them. With contradiction lingering most around them followed by that storm cloud with its electric taste of lightning.

Until it’s not, maelstrom dampens from pain and their home – which had grown smaller in time – had become a vise that sought to evict them. His starling leaves his side and the growing distance between them nearly has him grieving. Then he feels maelstrom’s core grow dim from surprise and then it grows brighter, pained still but happy.

He almost wonders why he did not realize that he was being rebirthed again when the familiar sensation of cold hits his nude body, why had he been so aware? He is cleaned and then wrapped up within a blanket, he can sense the maelstrom but only distantly now. He can hear his starling weep, quieting briefly when he is brought to the maelstrom – their _mother_. He cannot see her, she shines too brightly for him to make her out, but he thinks he sees hints – bright red, dark violet – and if she is so bright then undoubtedly, she is beautiful.

He thinks for a moment, that everything will be alright.

He never should have jinxed it. They appear, a supernova on the verge of becoming a black hole, of choking vines like devil’s snare, rage, and grief fanning the flames within their core. The woman and her assistant’s cores turn dark in ways he knows intimately and the contradiction – their father – catches him before he can hit the ground, but his starling cries and things become a confusing jumble. There is an explosion between the time their father catches his starling and they are placed together on a cot. Their father lingers for the slightest of moments, his hands on their heads before he leaves them alone together. He presses close to his starling who’s cries trail off to whimpers, limbs uncoordinated but soon they are curled together in ways that are familiar. Their father brings their mother and her core is muted compared to earlier, exhaustion and pain emanating from her.

The sunset mist is missing and then he realizes why, he can only sense them because they are _so much bigger_ than he realizes – artificial rage that soon becomes real. In those spare moments, their mother curls an arm around them both, he can feel her hand on the back of his head, touching him so gently. His starling is between them and he can make out her face better now that her core has dimmed from her exhaustion. There are drying tear tracks on her cheeks, fatigue, and pain on her face, but he can see the love in her eyes. She manages a smile when she sees him looking at her.

“You’re a surprise, you know?” She murmurs, one thumb stroking his cheek.

“A good surprise,” she assures, “we only expected Naruto.”

He looks at his brother and while he shines it is not too bright for him to make out his features. Sunshine yellow hair and red cheeks, his eyes are closed but Harry knows they would be that newborn baby blue until the pigment settles.

“Naomi,” his mother whispers, “Namikaze Naruto and Naomi.”

Naomi is a unisex name meaning honest beautiful self, and, perhaps, Naruto is as well since its double meaning is Maelstrom and fishcake. They are lovely names but Harry – _Naomi_ – cannot bask within the feeling of family or unconditional love before their mother is lifting them in her arms and then they are by their father’s side and sunset mist is _suffocating_ with its proximity. He can hear the sunset mist snarl and roar, but it can do nothing as golden chains erupt from his mother’s body and wrap around them, keeping them shackled.

They are placed together upon a pedestal and their father gives his life with the intention of sealing the sunset mist within them. He feels it first, that heavy foreign power that is only half recognizable, Naruto falls asleep as all babies do but Naomi stays awake and manages to hear their mother’s final words. The tears come as their mother and father’s core’s dim to dying embers and they’re both held in the arms of an older man who feels like grief.

**‘I am sorry, Master**.’

_‘It’s okay, Death.’_

* * *

He knows what it’s like to be hated, to be the recipient of it, to see revulsion pointed towards him. He’s even familiar with fear and sorrow that swiftly turns to anger at the fact that they’ve felt such vulnerable emotions. He had treated such things with apathy in previous lives – but those lives hadn’t made him wonder if he’d end up dead before he reached double digits. Usually, he’d treat such things with equanimity but…

He’s not used to having a twin, it’s happened before but they hadn’t been close-knit in that life. Their interests had been too different, their personalities near opposites, they had been fond of each other, but they weren’t that buddy-buddy attached at the hip inseparability that some twins emulated.

However, they hadn’t lived in a hostile village where the villager’s glares had _weight_ , it was familiar, the weight of hate like a physical thing. He had been used to it from Voldemort and in other lives where Death decides it would be amusing for him to live his life again if only to see just how differently he would live those lives. Dumbledore had been so _angry_ that his machinations were made useless. That his little martyr had cut his strings. Harry learned not to choke under that Negative Intent.

( **Killing Intent** , Death whispers into his mind, voice different but in this world, they have Shinigami and it seems they are blood-thirsty because Death whispers in his ear about world domination and slaughter. Harry is more amused than fearful, had learned to accept when Death was made different from the worlds they explored, and he was aware that Death was only acclimating to the change that came with taking over this worlds version of Death. It acted much like teenage phases, Death will return to himself in time and refuse to speak about these early years.)

Naruto, however, is a new soul – or well, his soul is one that contains only echoes and thumbprints of others that are meant to lead or _force_ him down his path. Something or _someone_ was playing with fate.

It doesn’t impress him, makes him recall his visit with the Goblins and the reveal of all the wards, geasa, compulsions, blocks and other spells that had either tracked his health or imposed things upon him and influenced his personality the way Dumbledore seemingly wanted to see. Harry was meant to walk the path that would lead to his death with a smile, unaware of just how far he was manipulated. Then there had been the spells and blood-based glamour’s which had been an unwelcome surprise. It hurt to realize the man who had been his mentor had always intended for him to die by Voldemort’s hand.

He worries about what that might mean for Naruto, for those thumbprints and echoes on his soul. Or, well, he knows but wishes he didn’t. He can see what Naruto is, he is Chosen. His previous lives had involved living in a world where there had been child champions, children that reminded him of himself that were meant to fulfill a prophecy. It always struck him as strange that no one ever realized how cruel it was to expect a child to do all your dirty work. Perhaps, that was because he knew what it felt like intimately.

Naruto’s core, however, resonates deeply with his own. Rarely had that ever happened, most worlds are thankfully free of prophecy or child champions. He wonders about it and finds his answer with Death.

**‘You are a splitting, spiritual twins and now physical twins. His destiny echoes your own, but on the other side of the same coin.’** The end of all things explains, and Naomi is unsure what to feel with that information. What did it mean for this small child to have a destiny so like his own had been in that first life as Harry Potter before he grew wiser?

He already knows about the misery they will suffer through. The sunset mist is known as the Kyūbi, the strongest of the nine bijū. Word had gotten out that Naruto and himself were made the container of the Biju, because it seems that in this world there are Jinchūriki, human sacrifices. Naomi with his red hair seems to be the main recipient of neglect by the caregivers at the orphanage.

Naomi is also not really a child, so he doesn’t care so long as Naruto does not suffer the same callous neglect. However, it seems that they are in danger of more than neglect since Naruto and himself have guards to watch over them, not that anyone else seems to realize. They hide, but Naomi can sense where they are when he tries. (One of them is painfully familiar, the lightning storm is usually filled with self-hatred, desperation, and grief.)

Luckily, even if the caretakers care little for them, there seem to be regular volunteers who assist, usually they wear some form of a metal plate with stylized leaves on some part of their bodies but also as common they seem to be injured in some way. He notices the way they hold themselves, how observant they are and comes to the most logical conclusion. Shinobi, then, perhaps on downtime and otherwise filling their calendars as they unwind before being deployed again. Or, as close to that as can be in this world. He knows it’s different, some things are modern while others seem downright feudal. Their mother had mentioned shinobi, he assumes that they’re this worlds form of military.

He knows he’s further ahead of the learning curve than Naruto, had begun crawling, standing, and walking faster than his little starling. The matron seems to take that to mean that he’s the Kyūbi reborn, which is downright idiotic, but the other caretakers seem to follow her lead in being more distant until the only people who handle Naruto and he are the volunteers. He doesn’t care since he finds he prefers the volunteers more than the others, their cores are brighter, more playful, he supposes.

“Pretty, like Naruto.” He tells one of them, surprisingly articulate. Naruto had begun to speak by that time and could walk with his assistance but Naruto can't string sentences together as he can. Naruto’s favorite ‘word’ seemed to be ‘Mi’ since he couldn’t say Naomi yet.

The shinobi seems amused, his core bright as it runs through his body. He has difficulty making out features still but if he tries he can make out brown hair under a bandana. He reaches out and pats the man’s abdomen. These people don’t have magic as he does, and he knows from listening to the shinobi that they have something called chakra, it reminds him of elemental magic.

“Spider silk delicate, poison needle sharp, crackling fire, dangerous but not to us, comrades, loyalty,” he pauses, because now their watcher is shocked. “Oh, sorry.”

He should have realized that coming out and saying those things wouldn’t be welcome. Would perhaps be taken as invasive, after all, he can sense their emotions as well and he doubts these shinobi like that they are so easily read. Instead, he goes over to Naruto, his supernova bright starling begins babbling at him when he arrives, too happy for coherency. Naomi smiles as he sits and lets Naruto hug him.

He’d protect Naruto with his life, it’s the least he could do for their parents to make sure he’s happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions and comments are totally welcome and I hope you guys have a wonderful day or night!


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